The latter routed the Jews and pursued them right up to[1] the sanctuary.
At this moment, one of the soldiers, without waiting for orders and with no horror of so dread a deed, but moved by some supernatural impulse, snatched a brand from the burning timber[2] and, hoisted up by one of his comrades, flung the fiery missile through a golden window,[3] which gave access on the north side to the chambers surrounding the sanctuary. As the flame shot up, a cry, such as the calamity demanded, arose from the Jews, who rushed to the rescue, lost to all thought of self-preservation, all husbanding of strength, now that the object of all their past vigilance was gone.
Titus was resting in his tent after the engagement, when a messenger rushed in with the tidings. Starting up just as he was, he ran to the Temple to arrest the conflagration, followed by all his generals, while in their train came the excited legionaries, with the clamour and confused noise arising from the movement in irregular order of so large an army. Cæsar, both by word of mouth and by a wave of his hand, signalled to the combatants to extinguish the fire; but they neither heard his shouts, drowned in the louder din which filled their ears, nor, distracted as they were by the fever of battle or rage, did they heed his beckoning hand. The impetuosity of the legionaries, when they joined the fray, neither exhortation nor threat could restrain; passion was for all the one officer in command. Crushed together about the entrances, many were trampled down by their companions; while many, stumbling on the still hot and smouldering ruins of the porticoes, suffered the same fate as the
